Oh my freaky friday!

I'm a complainer. At least I admit it right? If something is not going the way I want it to, everyone will know about it. And then, they will know about it again. I truly don't expect anyone to do everything they way I want them to, or even change anything at all, based on my complaints. I am not a hint-dropper. If I want someone to take some action, or make some change, I will spell it out for them, very clearly. I mostly want to be heard and understood, for the sake of being heard and understood. Is that narcissistic? Huh... That being said, I'd like to complain about my whole day Friday. Well, from Noon to five, anyway.


So, Zoe had pre-school at 12:30. I considered just not taking her, because after all, it's just pre-school, and I wasn't feeling like getting the boys bundled up to run her over there. But Finn had his well child check at 2:30, so I figured I may as well get them ready to go, since I was going to have to do it anyway - and if Zoe was at school, that would be one less kid to keep track of at the Doctors office. (My mother in law always watches them for me while we are there, since she works there - lucky me!) Anyway, I got Zoe to school, and was walking back to the van, when one of the other Dad's stopped me and said "Did you know you had a flat tire?" I said "Oh my gosh, no! Thanks for telling me!" Then I took a look at it and realized what he really meant to say was: "Hey lady, you must be pretty freaking dumb... no one drives around on a tire that flat without noticing." But at least he was nice enough to bring my stupidity to my attention. I decided to risk driving to Jims' Texaco (which hasn't been called Jims Texaco for years, but I really don't know what its called these days) and use their air hose. I figured since I'd already driven six or eight miles on my flat tire, a couple more blocks was worth the risk.

I get to Jims' only to discover that their air compressor is broken. I call Brian. He informs me that I'm going to have to change the tire. This is the part where I 1. COMPLAIN. and 2. Give very direct and specific instructions, LOUDLY. I informed him that although I'm aware of how to change a tire, I've never actually done it, and I'm not about to have a practice run with my two kids in the car. He says to sit tight and he'll come change it. My hero!

I know, I know the whole damsel in distress bit is very 1945, but I think there are certain things that are still "man work", and I intend to keep it that way. So, the boys and I hang out for a bit while we wait for Brian to come to the rescue. Around 1:15 we are back on the road, just in time to get the boys fed, and make it to Finns check up by 2:30.

We had some kind of road hazard insurance on the tire, so when the appointment ended at ten to three, we headed over to Sears. I was thinking it would take a half hour or so, if there was no one in front of us. WRONG.

I walk into Sears lugging my baby in his "bucket", the suitcase that passes for my diaper bag, and a 32 ounce diet coke, dragging Liam behind me by one finger. The showroom was deserted. I called "HELL-O" a couple of times, and finally a walrus named Bill came kalumphing out of the office. I told him the problem, informed him of the road hazard insurance, and inquired about the wait time. He said there was one other customer they were just finishing up, so it shouldn't be long. Sweet!

As we are getting settled in the waiting room, one of the grease monkeys was apologizing to the other customer for a miscommunication. Then she left, and I heard several of the grease monkeys talking about someone getting in trouble. Liam was pretty excited that they had a big window to look out in the shop so he could watch the "vroom-vrooms" and was quick to point out the machine with "nacks". After a few minutes, I looked out and noticed that someone was indeed getting in trouble. They were having a full-blown employee meeting out in the shop. I was thinking good, then my service will be better than that last lady's was!

The novelty of the window wore off pretty quick for Liam (could it be that nothing was happening to the vroom vrooms?) and after coloring and having snacks for about a half hour, he had resorted to playing puppy, and was totally BLACK from crawling on the floor. Eew.

After I'd been waiting about 45 minutes, I looked out and noticed that they were still standing around in their employee meeting, only now it was clearly a bull-shit session. They were joking and laughing and teasing, just having a great old time. Nine of them. NINE. And not one could take five minutes and change my tire? I took a picture with my phone :




Finally, the "meeting" broke up and most of the grease monkeys went back into the office. I saw one of them open up my tailgate and take out my flat tire. Mind you, this is after my van had been sitting in the shop for 45 minutes. He rolled the tire over to the puncture repair machine, and set it on the ground, then walked into the office. Ten minutes later, he walked back out, got the tire, and rolled it into the office, then back out. Then he walked back into the office. I could hear the seven of them joking and visiting in there for a few minutes, then the same guy came back and said he couldnt find me in the system, and did I have my receipt? Why, yes I did, why didn't they ask for it in the first place? Only about five minutes after that I saw them back my van out of the shop, and rushed Liam into the restroom to wash his hands and face. Finally, we were getting out of there!

As we came out of the restroom we walked past the office where six of the nine grease monkeys were hanging out. Like actual primates. (To their credit, three guys were out in the shop pretending to work). They all stopped and looked right at me as we walked past them into the showroom. It was deserted. I figured the guy must be looking for me in the waiting room to tell me my car was ready to go. We walked past the office again, with the infant-bucket, 32 ounce drink, suitcase-diaper-bag, and two year old in tow, again six pairs of eyes on me. The waiting room was empty. In the interest of keeping Liam walking so he wouldn't crawl again, we walked between the showroom and the waiting room a few more times. Every single time, every single one of those six guys looked right at us. And not one of them said a word. Finally, I walked right in the office, and said, "I don't know what the problem is, but I'd like to leave." Bill the walrus (who happened to be the manager) told one of his underlings to check me out.

The kid had to fight with the printer, then call for help to get my receipt to print. No apology for the wait, no gracious holding of the door, not even a "Have a nice day". Nothing. An hour and forty minutes for a tire change! ONE TIRE! By comparison, Brians tire change took thirty minutes, and he had to drive from Springville first, didn't have the luxury of hydraulic jack and wrench, and he was trying not to get his work clothes muddy! Thirgy minutes! With nine guys and all the equipment at Sears, that second change shouldn't have taken more than ten seconds! Then I get home and realize that they didn't even bother to put my doughnut in its cubby under the car, they just chucked it in the back on the carpet and upholstery! Idiots! AND they falsified the times on my receipt! It says my check in time was 3:55 and check out time was 4:25! HA! Just ask my starving baby, blackened two year old, and my engorged boobs for that matter; we were sitting in that waiting room only about THREE TIMES that long!!!


Don't you worry, I intend to complain to the people who are supposed to care about my experience at Sears tire center. In fact, I think I'll write a letter and print 50 copies, and send one every other day or so for a couple of months. Then maybe they'll notice the people who make it possible for them to have their jobs.


In other news... Finn and I are both sick. I hate being sick. I hate it even more when my kids are sick. So yeah, I'm hanging out today just filled to the brim with hate and negativity. I hope every one of those nine grease monkeys gets my sickness. And I hope they know who gave it to them too.